


I'm the Vodka Aunt

by redhouseclan



Category: John Wick (Movies), Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman: The Golden Circle (2017), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because of Reasons, Excommunicado, F/F, F/M, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Multi, Native American Character(s), OC is a POC - Freeform, OC is a mix but mainly NA, OC was supposed to be a drifter/stranger now she's practically family, Set in 2010, This got away from me, bad habits club, clumsy assassin, first Kingsman fic, his neck omg, lots of potential for a pairing, maybe a five parter, my estimate of when the Incident happened what traumatized Jack in love and life, sorry my waterboy is on corona leave and I'm a thirsty girl, total in a pedro pascal mood, was only meant to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhouseclan/pseuds/redhouseclan
Summary: What would become of Agent Whiskey if someone decided to woman-up and save his wife from her untimely demise?How would that change his perspective on Statesman and on why he wouldn't let Ginger be an agent?How does this tiny, clumsy woman take down a handful of rowdy methheads with only a pen and a belt?
Relationships: Agent Whiskey/Original Female Character(s), Agent Whiskey| Jack Daniels/ Wife, Aurelio|Original Female Character(s), Harry Hart | Galahad & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Helen Wick/John Wick, John Wick/Original Female Character(s), Merlin & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Merlin (Kingsman)/Original Female Character(s), OC/Other MC, Tilde/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	I'm the Vodka Aunt

**Author's Note:**

> My take on how to save my beautiful baby Agent Whiskey from the meat grinder.
> 
> Also, I think he would vote "no" for Ginger to be an agent because he doesn't want her hurt like his wife. When he woke up after the alpha-gel he was less of a dick to her, until she snapped him out of his horndog routine. *whispers* omg jack, your such a cheeseball flirt.
> 
> Read the tags. A sidepiece while I write the second chapter of A Viper's Bite. 
> 
> I'm totally on a Pedro Pascal roll, I can't believe I slept on him all these years, (given that I was completely obsessed with LOTR and Hobbit Rich and Lee in my teens), though I did find him super bae and uber-talented in GOT, the Equalizer 2, and The Mentalist. BUT NOW, ohhh boy, I am awake and shookth! Praise Chile and his parents for his presence.
> 
> As always, please read and review!

A quick run to the local grocery store was a bad idea, like a meth-head shoot out bad.

Couldn’t she just have her slushie and drink it too? Was that too much to ask from the world?

Eve had hoped that when she left New York, newly dubbed as _persona non grata,_ the work and shit that came with it would end. All the ‘yeehaws’,'yeeyees', sunshine, and neighborly BBQs this town holds could power the tristate area for decades. Meaning that random armadillos and megachurches became her new normal.

Fucking Aurelio, man. Leave it to the mech to put in a final word with his abuelo for letting her buy his house while he moved to Jersey to stay with him. It’s not like she was that desperate to move, she could have gone to Paris, Santiago, even Sweden. But one phone call with Matteo changed her mind.

_Atlantic City, mi bonita, is the dream for an old goat like me. I couldn’t leave a house I shared with the love of my life in better hands than yours, mija. I have a feeling this place will be perfect for you._

Summertime proved to be a pain in the ass for moving. In the small culdesac stood three houses, as the two outside ranch-style houses with immaculate yards were occupied the remaining one in the center, styled a light cream with green shutters and a “Just Sold” sign, had to be hers. She didn't have much, just a bugout bag and her lockbox. Aurelio was handling the rest of her stuff.

In retrospect, moving to Texas was a terrible idea. Yes, it’s a beautiful state, bless abuelo Matteo, BUT the people were _so_ friendly and nosy. As a self-diagnosed antisocial agnostic bookworm that was pushing her to the limit. The quiet suburb outside of town was ideal for laying low, given the fact that she was practically the only single person there. A first class opportunity for the little old lady, Marilla, next-door to set her up with every dentist and chiropractor she knows. Not that she actually called them, a pizza and whiskey night alone was her type of night.

Maybe her type of night for the past year since she moved. Don’t judge.

Pulling up the driveway, Eve put her baby in park. A 1965 Chevy Impala painted a dark metallic emerald. Winston was always a fan of the flashy classics, but in their line of work _flashy can be dangerous_. Hell, if John can get away with his black 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1 then she can too.

Then again, flashy was dangerous. Take a look at her now, excommunicado and still single AF.

_Still wasn’t my fault. Wrong place, wrong time. She was just a kid, I don’t do kids._

Taking a deep breath she slid her blue aviators on top of her messy black locks. Her boot heels clacked against the grey concrete sidewalk as she rummaged around her purse one-handed, a blue slushie held in the other, for the massive key ring to the house. The sun reflecting off of the neighbor’s truck windshield blinded her for a second, leaving her vulnerable to tripping over the giant knee-high gnome that always finds itself in the same spot by the walkway despite her many attempts to put it curbside.

Marilla did have a suspicious smile when it miraculously popped back into the yard.

“Fuck me sideways! Christ.” A skinned knee there and a blue stained shirt a moment later left Eve sprawled out half on the grass and half off the walkway.

Deciding whether or not to move, a shadow blocked out her view of the sun. It was her neighbor Carmen Daniels, the epitome of a beautiful woman who had it all- clear tan skin, long straight hair, the perfect house, a baby on the way, and the perfect, hot husband. God, she needs to get laid if she’s fantasizing about a married couple. _So not going there, even if he does have a killer accent and she looks hot in that sundress._ Fucking couple goals. _Wait, that came out wrong._

“Are you alright?” Laughing eyes and a pearly grin followed up Carmen’s question, breaking Eve out of her daze, “I would offer a hand except, well you know,” she gestures to her eight-month pregnant belly, “he might decide to pop out. Jack did warn me to be careful, he’s in his overprotective dad phase.”

“I’m fine, Jack Jr.’s fine. Jack Sr.’s fine.” Eve sighs, getting up to lean on her elbows, plucking her wet shirt away from her chest, “I think… 2010 is _just_ not my year. I mean, _what_ am I **_doing_**? Eating takeout when you don’t pity-feed me, annoying Jack with my random chats, and POOR MARILLA! Wasting her hot doctors on me for calls I don’t even answer. I’m a horrible person.” Slumping back down on the ground, Eve throws her arm over her eyes. Ignoring the cold, melting puddle of raspberry blue ice.

Clasping both hands around her belly, Carmen frowns. It wasn’t like her new friend to be so melancholy. Brooding- yes, only when she hasn’t had a good night's sleep, moody- yes, only if she’s not fed, but melancholy and ranting? This is 'a whole new bull’ as Jack would say.

She feels like calling Jack, Eve was one of the few people who GOT him. Like two peas in a pod those two, if Eve could grow a mustache telling them apart would be impossible. Some people would see it as a reason to be jealous or worried, but Carmen trusts Jack and trusts Eve. She could never relate to that part of her husband, the nightmares, the momentary flashback to some horror never spoken of, the friendly rivalry of best classic vehicles, and so much more.

Exhaling slowing, Carmen nods decisively. Deciding to handle this new mood in a similar vein to how Jack would. “How about we talk about it over a drink?” Seeing her friend’s eyes widen and glance to her belly in a ‘ _what the heck?’_ way, she reiterates, “I mean, I’ve been meaning to buy groceries. Jack Jr.’s been craving some conchas.”

“But I don’t need groceries,” Eve says dumbly.

Carmen holds up her shopping list she kept in her purse. “I do, chica. We can get you another slushie on the way. What do you say? It sounds like you need a girl talk and some food in you.”

Carmen’s eyes look so full of hope and concern, that Eve decides to suck it up and nods. Shaking out her sore limbs as she stands.

“Sure, but I’m driving. Jack would kill me if I let you drive alone that pregnant. Are you sure you don’t need a carseat? Kid looks ready to start chestbursting out of you.” Dodging a swat to the head, they make their way to the Impala.

She tosses her empty slushie cup in the backseat and puts on her sunglasses as Carmen buckles up. Charles Aznavour’s Parce Que Tu Crois sweeps through the air.

Raising one well-manicured eyebrow, Carmen looks to Eve in surprise.

Seeing this, Eve rolls her eyes and laughs. “What? I can’t have a little culture? I can only take so much country music.”

“You’re just like Jack,” she smiles, “most people assume he’s a country diehard but he loves jazz. I never thought I’d have to compete with Ella Fitzgerald.”

They both start laughing. Leave it to Jack to break the tension up with his charm even with his absence.

Driving with the windows down the scent of asphalt and wildflowers fill the air, unlike some people who have to fill the awkward silences with a conversation, the Daniels’ couple basks in it. Their small glances and hand-holding say so much more. _I love you, are you okay?, I’m happy, you’re the one for me._

Eve welcomes the silence, her head is always filled with what-ifs and memories of before. She was unsure why she decided to drop such a drama bomb on Carmen, she didn’t deserve that. When she gets in that headspace, she becomes a homebody drowning her woes alone. Something she never lets her new friends see or know about. This time was different. John sent a message via one of their ciphers. Helen was sick. Cancer.

One of her best friends needed her and she wasn’t there. She hated that. She hated the High Table, one mistake and she was done. No take-backs, no restarts. No more John, no more Aurelio, no more Winston, no more Bowery King, and no more Helen.

Her only family, gone.

A tight feeling spreads across her chest and a tear falls down her cheek, something she hasn’t felt since before the Bowery King took her in. Loss.

“Eve? Eve. Are you okay? I’ve been calling your name for the last two minutes.” Carmen looks over worriedly, something is wrong, Eve never cries. She desperately wants to call Jack but doesn’t want to worry him. He has an interview today with Statesman Whiskey Co., if anything she hopes he’ll know what to do when he returns. These two have an uncanny understanding about how to handle certain things.

Shaking her head, Eve clears her throat, “Ahhhem, sorry, I was just thinking. Got lost in my thoughts.” She points to her head, a fake smile on her lips that Carmen sees right through. She sits sideways as much as her stomach would allow and grasps Eve’s free hand.

“Oh, okay. We’ll if you want to talk, Jack and I are here for you. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I do,” she whispers, slightly squeezing her hand, “ I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger!! Stay tuned!


End file.
